


softer, softest

by hillsandvalleys



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Rough Oral Sex, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillsandvalleys/pseuds/hillsandvalleys
Summary: Dave presents. Bro's been waiting for this day for a long time.
Relationships: Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/Dave Strider
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59





	softer, softest

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i'd be remiss not to mention dark_def's ["Smells Like Belonging" ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592716) series as a huge and wonderful inspiration for this fic! i can't recommend their work enough :) title from hole's song of the same name, because... just look at the lyrics.
> 
> please be sure to read the tags, and there's also a full content warning in the end notes. alright, with all that said, happy (as it gets) reading!

Dave wakes up two days after his eighteenth birthday feeling like complete and utter shit. His head aches, his stomach feels weird and sort of queasy, and the first thing he notices when he sits up in bed is the smell of the apartment. Even through his closed bedroom door, the air _reeks_ of Bro’s Alpha scent, the musky gunmetal that’s been in the background of Dave’s entire life. Jesus Christ. It gets bad during Bro’s ruts sometimes, sure, but he usually just shuts himself in his room for those, and even then, it doesn’t get into Dave’s room like this. What the fuck is going on?

Ignoring the way moving makes his head pound - does he really have the flu or something on top of this? - Dave climbs out of bed and cracks his bedroom door open. “Christ,” he mutters, pulling his head back and closing the door again almost immediately. It’s ten times worse out in the living room, and it’s kind of making Dave feel dizzy. 

What the fuck did Bro _do_? Dave’s pretty sure he’s not even close to one of his ruts, so unless he got drunk and scentmarked half the house again - which he hasn’t even done in years -, there’s no explanation.

Dave sighs. Well. At least if Bro’s here, maybe Dave can go complain to him about it, and if he’s not, then Dave can open some fucking windows and maybe actually be able to breathe. 

Before he leaves his room, Dave pushes his window up, relishing in the fresh air before venturing out into the living room. It’s silent, which doesn’t necessarily mean that Bro is gone, but the lack of keys on the kitchen counter is a pretty good indication. Dave knows better than to call out for him or anything, but when the Jigsaw jack-in-the-box that pops out of the cupboard isn’t accompanied by any mocking remarks, Dave figures he’s as sure that he’s alone as he’s going to get. 

Dave finds a box of cereal behind the jack-in-the-box and pours himself a dry bowl, eating the cereal with his hands as he walks around and opens the windows in the apartment. He’s beyond grateful that it’s winter, since opening the windows in Houston in the summer is like asking to be burned alive by both the sun and Bro. The cooler air is nice, though, and the smell starts to dissipate as Dave drops down onto the couch with his breakfast. 

His headache starts to ease up as Bro’s smell stops trying to take up permanent residence in his nose, but his stomach still feels weird, like it’s trying to slowly flip over inside of him or something. Ugh. His back feels uncomfortable too, right at the base, like he slept on it awkwardly. 

Dave places his half-empty bowl on the coffee table and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. Is Googling his symptoms a bad idea? Absolutely. Does that stop him from typing “headache nausea ache symptoms of what” into the search bar? Absolutely not.

The first couple of links inform him that he’s going to die of a new type of cancer unless he orders some special banana powder, which isn’t really helpful. Some of the sites just tell him to hydrate, which he’ll admit is something he forgets to do sometimes, but he knows what that feels like and he knows it’s not whatever his stupid body’s doing this time. As it stands, it’s only when Dave clicks onto the second page of Google that he sees the word present for the first time. 

It’s like his blood goes hot, instead of cold, a full body flush that’s followed by a sudden shiver. Dave suddenly realizes that he’s practically freezing, and he grabs a ratty blanket from the back of the couch rather than risking closed windows bringing the stench back. Unsurprisingly, the blanket also smells like Bro, Alpha and familiar, but it’s not as overwhelming when he knows exactly where it’s coming from. 

Dave pulls the blanket tight around his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and clicks the link. It’s probably not what’s going on, he’s not, like, horny or anything, but he can’t quite make his brain stop thinking about the fact that he’s been due to present for years now. The little Bro has said to him on the subject has indicated that being a “late bloomer,” as Rose always says in a polite but condescending way, is normal for Striders, although any time past eighteen is starting to push it. So… it would make sense, if it weren’t for the fact that most of the symptoms listed don’t even remotely apply to Dave.

Like, the Alpha presentation signs are a possible headache, mild fever, territorial thoughts/behavior, heavy scent, and arousal. Check, nope, nope, nope, and nope. The Beta presentation signs are a possible headache, energy spurts, anxiety, light or bright scent, and arousal. Check, nope, maybe, nope and nope. Dave doesn’t even bother to check the Omega list - he’s a Strider, after all, and he’s really not expecting to do anything but follow in Bro’s strong Alpha footsteps. 

Dave closes the tab and shoves his phone back into his pocket, shivering again when the movement pushes the blanket aside and lets some of the cool air in. He’s colder than he probably should be, and he kind of wants nothing more than to be back in his bed, curled up in the middle of as many blankets as he can find. 

Well. Bro’s not around to make him strife or clean or anything, so Dave tugs the blanket as tight as he can and makes a beeline for his room. Even though he’s almost entirely sure that Bro’s not home, his heart pounds as he crosses the few empty feet from the couch to his bedroom door. He feels exposed, vulnerable, and not scared - again, he’s a Strider -, but unsettled until he’s sliding under his covers. 

Okay. Yeah, he’s fine, just… got some weird cold, probably. He’s always trying to tell Bro that he doesn’t clean his shit enough after gigs, and that’s probably where the fucking germs came from. It’s not like Dave leaves the apartment all that much. 

Snuggling further into the covers, more comforted than he’d like to admit by the muted scent of Bro’s blanket and the familiar, neutral scent of his own sheets, Dave pulls his phone out again and opens Pesterchum.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]  


TG: if i leave you my turntables in my will will you actually use them or just turn them into some sort of dave shrine  
TG: this is important so please think through your answer carefully  
TG: wrong answers are punishable by not getting my turntables when i die  
TG: and hey no one wants to risk that  
EB: hm, i think i could definitely give them a shot if that was like your dying wish!  
EB: you’re not dying, right?  
TG: hard to say  
TG: arent we all dying from the day were born  
TG: but nah i mean according to google yes definitely ive got twelve sweet sweet hours  
TG: but i think im just dehydrated or some shit  
EB: aw man!  
EB: what’s wrong?  
TG: just a headache no big deal  
TG: but i wanted to get the turntable thing sorted out asap  
TG: just in case  
EB: right.  
EB: are you sure you’re okay though?  
EB: i am pretty sure that i’ve never actually seen you admit to being sick.  
TG: shit dude hang on no one said sick  
TG: but ill save the getting hung up on semantics for rose  
TG: im a mature adult now remember  
EB: how could i forget!  
EB: i can’t believe you could just go, like, get a tattoo or something now.  
TG: ha imagine waiting til youre the big one eight for some ink  
TG: im actually covered head to toe already  
EB: dave. we video chat every week.  
TG: im catfishing you  
EB: very mature!  
TG: yeah yeah shut up  
TG: anyway whats up in egbert land  
EB: not much.  
EB: life is pretty boring right now!  
EB: have you talked to your bro about coming out here for christmas?  
EB: i mean, i don’t think you should even have to ask him since you’re 18.  
TG: nah not yet  
TG: and im not just gonna not tell him hes bro  
TG: he probably already knows that im going honestly because hes cool like that  
TG: but ill try and get the official ok soon  
EB: good!  
EB: sorry if i’m being a dick about it, i’m kind of in pre-rut and you know how i get.  
TG: yeah no i got you  
TG: couldnt let me forget that youve presented for a conversation huh  
EB: jeez, do you want me to just not mention a literal entire facet of human biology?  
TG: yes please  
EB: okay, i’ll stop talking about my spleen so much!  
EB: hehe.  
TG: dude that wasnt even close to being funny are you okay  
TG: fucking pre-rut stealing all of your precious few braincells  
EB: ha ha.  
EB: hey, wait, do you think that you might be presenting?  
EB: i was always told that it can look a lot like dehydration, especially for omegas.  
TG: john  
TG: my best friend  
TG: apple of my platonic fuckin eye  
TG: do you really think that im an omega  
EB: okay, i guess not.  
EB: but you never know! jade always says that we put too much stock into what any presentation is supposed to look like anyway.  
TG: jade lives on an impossible fantasy island i dont think her opinion on social norms is valid  
TG: also stereotypes happen for reasons  
EB: yeah, i guess so!  


Dave is typing out a reply when something in the back of his mind twinges with fear. He looks up, peering out of the mound of blankets and pillows he’s somehow wormed himself into, and finds Bro looming in the doorway of his room, arms folded. He shuts his phone off without really thinking about it and gives Bro a nod. 

Bro doesn’t move or give any indication that he even recognizes that Dave is sitting there. His scent is strong, though, like someone bottled it into a cologne and he jumped into a fucking pool of it, and Dave shifts uncomfortably. His stomach is turning again at the scent, all musk and sweat and metal and something sharp that Dave has never been able to identify, and despite the fact that he was just really cold, he feels like he’s dripping with sweat.

Dave swallows hard. He’d be thankful for the way his shades hide his eyes if it wasn’t for the way that Bro always seems to be able to see right through them. “You smell like shit,” he finally says, carefully. He doesn’t want to provoke a strife right now, but it kind of needs to be said.

Bro arches an eyebrow and takes one step towards Dave’s bed. Without realizing what he’s doing, Dave scoots back so that he’s pressed up against the headboard. His heart is pounding, shit, he knows how to keep his cool better than this, what the fuck is he doing?

“You’re one to talk, kid,” Bro says. 

Dave feels his face shift into something like confusion before he can stop it. What does Bro mean? It’s Bro’s fucking scent that’s saturating the entire apartment, not his. Hell, Dave barely even has a scent, just the neutral nothing smell of someone that hasn’t presented. Just to be sure, though, he tilts his head to the side and sniffs his own shoulder.

The first thing he smells, unsurprisingly, is Bro, from the blanket and the air and the - whoa, whoa, what the fuck - the fucking hand that Bro has suddenly placed on Dave’s shoulder. Dave can’t remember the last time Bro touched him in any way other than to throw him across the roof like he’s nothing, and the fear running through the back of his mind spikes. 

Dave jerks back into the headboard, his shoulder slamming into the wood with a thunk. His heart feels like it’s about to push its way out of his chest, and he thinks he might throw up. What the fuck is he doing? He should know better than this, he _does_ know better than this. 

“Hey-“ he starts, but the next thing that comes out of his mouth is a sharp yelp as Bro’s hand slides up a little and squeezes the skin right over his mating gland. “ _Ow,_ what the fuck?”

“This ain’t rocket science,” Bro says. This might be the most he’s spoken to Dave in a single day in years. It’s more than a little bit terrifying. “You’re in heat, kid.”

_You’re in heat, kid._

Dave freezes. Because while the first thing he smelled when he sniffed his shoulder was Bro, the second thing was … different. It was a sweet smell, like apples and cinnamon and vanilla extract, like every cliche Omega in the book, and oh, fuck. _He’s in heat._

This might be Dave’s worst case scenario, actually. He really thought he’d be an Alpha like Bro. It would make sense, and even though it might’ve caused some tension between them, it wouldn’t have been a big deal or anything. He could even have handled being a Beta, since that wouldn’t really change anything about his life. But an Omega?

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Logically, Dave knows this isn’t, like, the end of the world or anything. But he can’t imagine telling his friends that he’s an Omega, especially since he’s been telling them that he’s almost definitely going to be an Alpha and that he would totally be a better fit for the role than John, and now he’s going to have to deal with fucking heats for the rest of his life and -

Bro interrupts his thoughts with a short scoff. “Are you really surprised?” he says. “I mean, don’t blame me, I tried to toughen you up, but…”

“That’s not-” Dave starts, but the words disappear from his mouth when Bro’s scent sharpens. It’s not quite all the way from annoyance to anger, but it’s close enough that Dave knows better than to keep talking back. 

“If I’m being honest, though,” Bro continues, keeping one hand over Dave’s mating gland and reaching out to grab Dave’s hair with the other. Dave can smell his own scent now that he’s aware of it. It spikes with sour fear when Bro yanks on his hair, forcing him to bare his neck. 

Dave’s instincts are freaking out, to put it mildly. Half of them are screaming _pack, safe, Alpha, nest, stay here,_ and the other half are insisting that Bro is dangerous, that he’s exposed, that he needs to hide. He settles for staying where he is but aiming a stupid, stupid kick at Bro’s thigh. 

Bro steps to the side easily, of course, and his grip tightens in Dave’s hair. It hurts like fuck, but Dave blinks back the tears the pain brings to his eyes. This isn’t new, it’s probably just - a new way to strife. A chance for Dave to prove that presenting Omega doesn't mean he’s less of a Strider, that Bro’s training hasn’t been a waste, that - 

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long fuckin’ time, Dave.” 

That’s… that’s different. Bro’s scent changes again, somehow growing heavier, and Dave’s heart skips a beat in the worst possible way when he realizes that he recognizes it from behind Bro’s bedroom door during his ruts. Oh, fuck. He doesn’t know what’s going on here, he’s still trying to fucking process the fact that he’s an Omega in heat, and he can’t figure out what the hell kind of test Bro is trying to put him through right now. 

Dave swallows hard. His mouth is dry, but his t-shirt is sticking to him with sweat. Okay. Okay, no, this is just another one of Bro’s tests, it’s just a weird one. A really fucking weird one. 

Bro leans in close to Dave. Without moving either of his hands, he puts his face right next to Dave’s cheek and inhales. It’s so close to the scent marking that he hasn’t done in years, so close to acknowledging that they’re pack, that Dave forgives himself for the way he inhales shakily, trying to take some comfort from Bro’s scent despite the fact that it’s been saturating his nose for the past hour anyway. 

“Now,” Bro says, his voice low and dangerous and just close enough to a growl to have Dave shivering, “are you going to be a good Omega or are you going to make this difficult?”

Dave knows it’s stupid, knows he shouldn’t ask questions right now, but he’s so fucking confused and his thoughts and instincts are all jumbled up. “What?”

Bro’s lip twitches. There’s no way that it or the disapproval it indicates are anything but intentional. “Are you going to be a good Omega,” he repeats, his painfully slow enunciation made almost useless by the way he’s practically growling out the words, “or are you going to make. This. Difficult.” 

Dave doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what Bro is talking about, doesn’t know whether he needs to run or go limp, doesn’t know why Bro’s scent is getting muskier and heavy with what Dave can’t call anything but arousal as he leans in closer. He doesn’t know what the right answer is. 

Bro’s lip twitches again, and his scent starts to take on that air of annoyance again. Dave opens his mouth to blurt something out when Bro suddenly jolts forward and is on top of him, on the bed, _in Dave’s nest,_ he needs to get out, he’s a threat but he’s pack, his hard dick is pressing into Dave’s stomach. Wait. What?

“Wh-” Dave starts. “Bro, get off of me, I-”

He wrenches his head to the side, but Bro just yanks on his hair and tugs him right back. All Dave can smell now is his own fear scent, sharp and sour, and Bro all over him, everywhere, overwhelming. “Alright, fine,” Bro snaps. “Have it your way, kid.” 

Dave tries to reply, but before he can get anything even resembling a word out, Bro is pulling on his hair and shoulder and trying to get him _out of his nest_. Bro’s back on his feet somehow, and he’s stronger than Dave is, no question about it, but Dave frantically grabs at the sheets. “Bro, stop,” he says, “I can’t - what are you doing?”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Bro says, instead of any sort of answer. His scent is still getting stronger, somehow, and it’s making Dave feel heady and weak. He’s sweaty all over now, adrenaline and god knows what else flashing through his veins, and he kicks his leg out in another attempt to get Bro away. 

Bro lets go of Dave’s to catch his ankle easily, and he drops it back down on the bed with nothing more than a hint of anger sliding into his scent. Without a word, he lets go of Dave’s hair in favor of grabbing at the scruff of Dave’s neck, and Dave goes limp. 

Fucking Omega instincts, _fuck._ Dave tries to move his leg again, but his instincts are telling him to freeze, to stay still and stop fighting so he doesn’t get hurt, to - oh, _fuck _. To fucking piss himself, apparently. Fuck. There’s a moment where he thinks it might be slick, but it’s hot and there’s too much of it and his sleep shorts are soaked in seconds.__

__Dave lets out an involuntary whimper and tries to curl in on himself, to get back into his nest even though the sheets it’s made of are now damp and gross. Bro stops trying to pull him, thank fuck, but Dave can smell the way his scent has grown sharp with disapproval. “Don’t say I didn’t try to take you to my room,” he mutters. “Should’ve known you’d be so fuckin’ stubborn.”_ _

__“I’m-” Dave says, but he doesn’t have a chance to figure out whether he’s protesting or apologizing before Bro uses the hand not still gripping the scruff of Dave’s neck to push him down into the bed._ _

__“You’ve said enough,” Bro says. “Are you going to behave now?”_ _

__Dave’s face and scent are flushed with embarrassment, his shorts feel like they’re sticking to him, and Bro’s heady Alpha pheromones are doing something he’d really prefer not to think about to the space just below his spine. He thinks he might be crying, and all of his instincts are telling him to just lie down and take what he has no choice but to realize he’s about to get._ _

__Bro watches him carefully for a moment, his hand still pressing down right in the center of Dave’s chest, before he seems to decide that Dave isn’t going to fight. He climbs up onto the bed easily, bracketing Dave’s hips with his knees, and letting go of Dave’s neck in favor of grabbing his hair again._ _

__Dave shudders, but the sight of Bro hovering over him, face stoic but scent heavy and undeniably aroused, has him tilting his head back and exposing his neck before Bro even has to pull. Bro’s mouth quirks up into something like a smile for a split second._ _

__“There you go,” Bro says. It sounds… sweet, almost, as close to gentle as Dave has ever seen him get, and he leans down and rubs his cheek against Dave’s, scentmarking him like it hasn’t been years since the last time he did._ _

__Dave is definitely crying now. His chest is hiccuping up under Bro’s steady hand, and despite the mixed messages in his brain, this feels safe. This is his pack, Bro is pack and protector and safe, huffing out an amused breath when his shades knock against Dave’s, and Dave does his best to nuzzle back against him._ _

__“Bro,” he says softly, more of a whine than anything else._ _

__“Shh,” Bro murmurs back, nudging Dave’s cheek again before starting to move his face down towards Dave’s neck. He scentmarks Dave there, the feeling distantly familiar and comfortable, but then he inhales and replaces his cheek with his tongue, gently licking the skin just above Dave’s mating gland._ _

__Dave clears his throat, but when he says, “Bro?” it still comes out as a whisper._ _

__“ _Shh_ ,” Bro repeats, harsher this time, and Dave’s heart starts to pound again. Bro is safe, he’s pack, he was just being weird but now he’s scentmarking Dave and things can be normal even though Dave’s an Omega and - _ _

__Without any warning beyond a quick inhale, Bro bites down on Dave’s mating gland. The pain is sharp, immediate, and unexpected, his Alpha canines piercing the skin like it’s nothing, and the only thing Dave can do is scream. He - Bro - that - his teeth are still locked onto Dave’s neck even as Dave begins to thrash, fighting every instinct he has in order to hit his hands against Bro’s arms, his chest, anything Dave can reach because this is a fucking mating bite. It’s a mating bite, which are usually only given during orgasm because they hurt like shit, which are usually only given after _explicit fucking consent from both parties because they’re a fucking permanent commitment_._ _

__That’s - fuck. Fuck. Dave just turned eighteen, he was going to move out and go to college and maybe find a girlfriend for the first time in his life but now all of that is fucking gone because Bro is fucking bonding him. His teeth are still locked, digging into the skin so deeply that Dave wonders if he’s going to hit a vein, and he’s giving absolutely no indication that he’s even hearing Dave’s screaming or feeling his weak attempts at punches._ _

__And then, just as suddenly as they bit down, Bro’s teeth lift. The pain doesn’t leave, of course, just settles from a sharp sensation to something more like a dull ache. Dave’s breath is ragged when he recognizes that it’s his own, choked with sobs and half-started words._ _

__Bro just leans down and scentmarks him on the cheek again, like nothing happened. Like Dave isn’t sobbing so hard he thinks he might be sick, like he didn’t just fucking permanently bond his little brother to himself, like he hasn’t just fucked Dave’s already fucked Omega life up irreparably._ _

__“See, that wasn't that bad,” Bro says, softly, like he thinks he’s being comforting. Dave knows he knows he’s not; he can smell the sick satisfaction in his scent._ _

__There’s a split second where Dave thinks he might be able to escape, mentally plotting the best course from his nest to the door, calculating how far out into the hallway he could get before Bro just caught him and dragged him back, but the feeling of Bro, his Alpha, his _mate_ , now, nuzzling up against his cheek, is intoxicating in a way that makes Dave nauseous. But he doesn’t move._ _

__Maybe things will be okay now. Maybe Bro just bonded him as a protection thing, unclaimed Omegas aren’t exactly the safest demographic out in the world, and that’s...maybe Dave can live with that. Maybe there’s ways to get around it, re-bond. At the very fucking least, maybe that will be the end of whatever this is. After all, if Bro was intending on making this like…. that, then it wouldn’t make sense for him to have bonded Dave in the most painful way possible. And really, Dave would rather the ache in his neck than Bro’s hand moving down to his hip or anything._ _

__Wait. Shit. Bro’s hand is moving down to his hip, sliding down to the bottom of Dave’s loose, wet shorts and pushing the hem up. The leather of his glove is rough against Dave’s skin._ _

__“You really made a fuckin’ mess down here, huh,” Bro says. He doesn’t smell disgusted; in fact, the scent of his arousal just isn’t going away, and it’s really throwing a wrench in the part of Dave’s brain that’s desperately trying to rationalize the situation._ _

__It’s not like Bro being turned on is, like, a huge surprise, right? Nevermind the fact that Dave’s his brother, he’s an Omega in heat and Bro’s an Alpha and now they’re bonded. It only makes sense. This could happen with anyone. It only makes sense that Dave feels like he’s soaking wet, like the slick he can’t pretend isn’t leaking from his ass hasn’t saturated his boxers and is probably much closer to wetting the bed than he’d like to admit, that the space where his - his brain stutters over the word uterus - that he feels empty, there. This could happen with anyone._ _

__“You know,” Bro says, conversationally. His hand is rubbing up and down Dave’s thigh, edging higher and higher each time, amd his breath is hot against Dave’s cheek. “For all the waitin’ you put me through, you picked an alright time for this. Now there ain’t no one who can tell me I can’t do this ‘cause you’re a minor, like that would even matter for an Omega like you.”_ _

___Goodbye, plausible deniability about what’s happening,_ Dave thinks, more than a little hysterically. Bro’s hand has crept up to the waistband of his shorts now, his fingers hooking into the fabric, his nails just barely scratching Dave’s hip, and somewhere in there is the last straw._ _

__Dave throws his head forward, slamming it into Bro’s nose as hard as he can. Bro actually lets go of his hair, presumably to cover his nose as he hisses under his breath, and he rears back just enough that Dave’s shorts slip out of his grip._ _

__There’s no time for Dave to feel triumphant as he forces his stupid shaky limbs to the side, nevermind the way he feels terrified at the thought of leaving his nest or sick at the thought of being alone right now, especially not with the way the bond is already telling him to stay with Bro, his Alpha, his _mate_. But he needs to get out. _ _

__He rolls, tucking his arms in to his chest. The relief of his feet hitting the thin carpet is maybe the best thing he’s ever felt for the second before his knees give out and he collapses all the way down onto the floor. His body is panicking. It can’t figure out why he’s left his nest, his mate, not to mention that slick is starting to make its way down the back of his thighs and he definitely did not hydrate enough beforehand to lose all of that moisture._ _

__Dave doesn’t even have a chance to catch his breath before Bro’s hand is in his hair again, yanking him up from the ground with an Alpha growl that sets all of Dave’s nerves on edge. “I’m not sure what part of the picture you’re not gettin’.”_ _

__“I didn’t, I don’t want,” Dave tries to say, but Bro growls again, wordless and harsh, and he falls quiet. His shoulders are shaking, and he knows that trying anything else would be useless even before he hears the click of Bro’s belt opening._ _

__Dave closes his eyes. He tries to throw his weight to the side, just to see if he can, but the grip Bro has on his hair is too strong._ _

__“Stay fuckin’ still,” Bro snaps. “You’re mine now, got it?”_ _

__Dave’s not sure what feels worse when it hits - Bro’s order or his piss. The words are sharp and harsh and spoken at just the right tone to tell Dave’s body to submit, but the piss is hot and unexpected and acrid when it splashes across Dave’s nose, his shades, stinging when it hits his sore mating gland and seeping into his shirt._ _

__“Bro, _stop,_ ” Dave says, just this side of begging, but Bro doesn’t answer. He just pushes Dave’s head back against the wall and adjusts the stream - it’s still coming, fuck, Dave briefly considers the possibility that it’s just never going to stop - right back onto Dave’s face. Dave tries and fails to turn his head to the side, and he thinks he might throw up when he sobs and some of it gets in his mouth. _ _

__“This is your place as my Omega, kid,” Bro says. “I’d suggest you get used to it, else it’s just gonna get worse for you from here.”_ _

__Dave keeps his eyes shut and doesn’t say anything else. Every one of his senses is overloaded, so much so that it takes him a moment after the fact to realize that Bro’s stopped pissing. Okay. Fuck. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s done, maybe -_ _

__“Look at me,” Bro snaps, and there’s a soft thud as Dave’s shades are pulled from his face and tossed across the room. Dave forces his eyes open, praying to god his shades aren’t broken, and looks at the space between Bro’s eyebrows. “Get back on the bed.”_ _

__Dave takes in a deep, shuddering breath. He wishes he didn’t have to smell Bro, wishes that his instincts didn’t take comfort in his scent, wishes that his stupid, stupid body wasn’t still producing slick and practically begging Bro to fuck him._ _

__Bro’s hand tightens in Dave’s hair, then lets go. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”_ _

__So Dave does. He does his best to wipe his face off with his hand, but it does nothing but smear the piss and tears around, and it’s not like it matters anyway because Bro just pushes him facedown into the wet spot he made earlier without another word._ _

__There’s just… there’s too much for Dave’s brain to process. His body feels like it got put through a dryer cycle, if dryers also just fucking covered shit in piss, and he still hasn’t quite been able to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s an Omega, let alone that he’s an Omega that’s bonded to his brother. Honestly, it’s a fucking miracle he hasn’t thrown up yet._ _

__As it is, Dave can’t find it within himself to even try to put up a fight as Bro yanks down his soaked shorts and boxers. He honestly wishes that Bro would take his shirt too; it’s sticky with sweat and piss and smells godawful, but of course, Bro’s hands skate up his thighs and grab his ass without any further delay._ _

__The contact alone sends a full-body shudder up Dave’s spine, and he can’t help the way he whimpers. He doesn’t want this. He _doesn’t_ want this. But that isn’t keeping slick from practically fucking pouring out of him, just screaming to Bro’s instincts that he needs to be fucked. Fuck._ _

__Dave doesn’t need to see Bro’s face to know he’s smirking when he says, “Slicked up all nice for me, huh?” and okay, okay, fuck, that’s Bro’s finger rubbing against his hole._ _

__Dave bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. His breath is coming funny, he can’t breathe in all the way with the angle Bro’s holding his head down, and he feels so fucking empty that he doesn’t know if he can make himself keep protesting. He doesn’t want Bro to fuck him, but… he wants to get fucked, or at least, his stupid Omega hormones want him to get fucked._ _

__Bro’s finger slips inside. It barely feels like anything with how wet Dave is, but he still can feel the rough tug of Bro’s leather glove against his ass cheek. He closes his eyes. He can get through this, right? It’s like not getting fucked can be that much worse than anything else that’s happened so far, he can just close his eyes and pretend it’s anyone else but Bro, and at least his body will calm down when it’s all said and done._ _

__“Damn shame you haven’t earned what you want yet,” Bro says, and again, Dave’s desperate rationalizations come crashing down around his ears as he’s flipped over by the hands in his hair and on his waist._ _

__He opens his eyes without really meaning to and regrets it as soon as he sees Bro, face stoic as ever, naked from the waist down, and balancing with the hand in Dave’s hair as he climbs onto the bed and sandwiches Dave’s shoulders between his knees. His dick is inches from Dave’s face, and Dave’s hit with a fresh wave of sobs and slick when he puts it together._ _

__“Bro,” he says, turning his head as far to the side as he can, “Bro, don’t, I’ve never, it won’t be good, I don’t want-”_ _

__Bro yanks his head back so that his dick is right in front of Dave’s mouth again, the flushed head just brushing against Dave’s lips when he leans forward. “What, did you want something else?”_ _

__“I-” Dave says, then falters. He - he’s not going to ask Bro to fuck him. He can’t. But he can’t just let _this_ happen either, not when it’ll be so much worse with his neck already sore and no hope of any sort of relief. _ _

__“C’mon,” Bro says. It’s disgustingly close to a purr. “If there’s somethin’ else you want, you just have to ask, little man.”_ _

__Dave knows he’s lying. It’s Bro, and if today has proven anything, it’s that Bro will take whatever he wants with no regard to anything Dave says. But… maybe it’s a test. Maybe he just wants Dave to ask so he can justify it to himself, or so that he can hold it over Dave’s head later._ _

__Just thinking about later - god, they’re bonded, later is going to be a long fucking time - makes Dave want to be sick. He’s paralyzed, doesn’t know what to say._ _

__“Dave,” Bro says, The almost-purr is gone now, and his voice is unmistakably falling into a growl. “Last chance.”_ _

__Dave closes his eyes, opens them again before Bro can make him. “I… fuck me.”_ _

__The scent of Bro’s self-satisfaction floods the room. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it.”_ _

__“Fuck me,” Dave repeats. The sound is just above a whisper._ _

__“Hm,” Bro says, mock-considering, and Dave’s heart drops like a stone. Fuck. Of course he’s not going to do it. He never fucking considered it. “Nah, I don’t think you’ve been good enough for that.”_ _

__It’s useless, it’s humiliating, but Dave feels so fucking empty that he can’t help the, “ _Please,_ ” that slips out._ _

Bro is silent and still for a moment. Dave can feel slick running down his thighs, and he spreads them open just a bit. _Please._

__“Maybe next time,” Bro finally says, casual, like he’s telling Dave he can’t buy a game at the store, and then his dick is pushing up against Dave’s lips. “Open up, kid.”_ _

__Dave resolutely keeps his mouth shut. He knows it’s pointless, knows he could never refuse Bro before and certainly can’t do it now, but what other choice does he have?_ _

__“Dave,” Bro growls. “Don’t make me make you.”_ _

__His grip in Dave’s hair tightens, and he does a weird maneuver with his feet that ends with his ankles hooked over Dave’s wrists, effectively removing any chance of escape. Dave inhales through his nose, exhales, and squeezes his eyes shut. The growl in Bro’s chest gets louder. Dave opens his mouth._ _

__Bro doesn’t praise him, but he stops growling when he shoves his dick into Dave’s mouth, not bothering with any pretense before pushing it as far back as it can go. Dave chokes, unsurprisingly, a pained whine falling out of his mouth, but he doesn’t move. His instincts are going haywire, so fucking relieved to be under an Alpha, _Dave’s_ Alpha, but still confused about why he’s not getting properly fucked. At least the horrible mixture of relief and need offers a bit of a distraction from the ache already forming in Dave’s jaw as he holds his mouth open, trying his best to just let himself go slack while Bro fucks his mouth._ _

__Bro is muttering something about Dave learning his place, how if Dave keeps being good then maybe Bro will knock him up with pups one day, how he’ll be so grateful to serve an Alpha like Bro. Dave tries his best to tune it out. Bro’s cock is heavy and hot in his mouth, salty with the taste of sweat and musk, and the scent of Bro’s skin and pubes is overwhelming when they push up against Dave’s nose._ _

__Dave thinks he might be hard. He’s not sure; all he can feel from the waist down is _empty._ _ _

__Just as he’s starting to accept the rhythm, though, the harsh breaths he gasps each time Bro pulls out, the drool pooling in his mouth and sliding down his cheeks, the twinge of his gag reflex that he thinks he might be getting better at pushing down, Bro grunts, “Deep breath, kid.”_ _

“What?” Dave tries to ask. It comes out completely unintelligible, of course, but he puts the pieces together a moment later when he opens his eyes and Bro jerks his hips down more and - fuck. Fuck, that’s Bro’s knot starting to swell in between Dave’s lips, fuck, he can’t do this, it’s too much and it’s not where Dave _needs_ it and he tries to pull away. Maybe he can make himself beg again, maybe Bro will listen, maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But he can’t pull away. Bro is still holding him by the hair, and his knot is still swelling in Dave’s mouth. Dave wonders if it’ll break his jaw. He was told that was an urban legend, but those have to come from somewhere, don’t they? 

Bro grunts, thrusts his hips down again, and when he goes to pull back, he doesn’t move. His knot is just behind Dave’s teeth, which means that his dick is halfway down Dave’s throat, and it’s _not coming out_.

“Shit,” Bro mutters, panting. “Shit, little man.”

Dave is trying as hard as he can not to choke, digging his thumb into his palm, crossing his fingers, every trick he’s seen on the internet, but then Bro shifts a millimeter and it’s a lost cause. He can barely get fucking air around the knot, but he manages to pull in enough to cough and gag, his body spasming under Bro’s weight like that’ll do anything. It doesn’t dislodge the knot, of course, but because the universe hates Dave, the feeling apparently makes Bro come.

He grinds down, shoving his pubes into Dave’s nose and further blocking his fucking airways, and makes a choked off moan as he starts to spill directly down Dave’s throat. It’s so much, almost as bad as the piss was, and Dave doesn’t even need to swallow but the sensation is fucking _awful_. 

Dave doesn’t know how long it lasts. He wishes he could just go numb, but he can’t ignore the strain in his jaw or the way his body is still desperately trying to figure out why he’s with his mate but not getting bred. Somehow, he manages to stop choking, but he’s more than slightly worried about suffocating. People passing out - or worse - on knots is more than an urban legend, and Bro hasn’t given the slightest impression that he’s even paying enough attention to notice. Besides, even if the fuzzy gray spots at the edges of Dave’s eyes get worse, it’s not like there’s anything they could do that wouldn’t involve permanently breaking Dave’s jaw or teeth. All he can do is wait.

Eventually, Bro stops coming. He stays hovering over Dave as he catches his breath, his satisfied Alpha scent permeating the room like a _fuck you_ to Dave’s desperate pheromones, and stays hovering there even once his breathing has returned to normal. 

“How long?” Dave tries to ask, because it’s worth a possible ass-kicking to know. It’s not like Bro could do anything worse at this point. 

Bro snorts. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“How _long?”_ Dave repeats, but it comes out, again, as “Ow on?” 

“If you’re askin’ how long, I’d say twenty,” Bro says. “You know, Dave, you’re pretty lucky. I’m not some weak, pussy Alpha. Gonna take care of you, once you figure out how to do your part.”

Dave closes his eyes like that’ll do anything to block out the words. He doesn’t need to see to know that Bro is rolling his eyes at him. Whatever. _Whatever_. The numbness is finally starting to creep in, thank fuck, although whether it’s due to emotional overload or just too much strain on his muscles is anyone’s guess. 

Of course, Bro ruins that a second later by reaching down and scentmarking Dave’s cheek with his wrist gland. “Gonna be a good pack,” he says. “Me and you.”

Dave doesn’t want to react, but Bro’s his pack, his mate, and he rubs his cheek back against Bro’s wrist the best that he can. Bro purrs, pleased, and Dave doesn’t know whether the approval makes him feel better or worse. He does his best to turn his cheek away and just think about breathing until Bro’s knot goes down.

It does, eventually. Dave has no real sense of how long it took, but he has a creeping, if not melodramatic, feeling that his jaw will never be the same again. Bro lets him go after he’s pulled out, but Dave doesn’t know where he’d go if he could even force his limbs to move. His stupid Omega body is still producing slick, still trying to do its job, but Dave’s too tired to even get worked up about it anymore. 

He’s even too tired to get worked up when Bro wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs him back into his nest, away from where he soaked the sheets with piss and slick, pulling Dave to his chest and burying his face in Dave’s hair. 

Dave doesn’t want to be comforted by the touch, not when his skin is still sticky and sweaty and gross, not when his jaw doesn’t feel like it’ll ever open all the way again, not when his mating gland still aches with every beat of his pulse, but… he is. Bro’s chest is broad against his back, and his arms are strong in the exact way that tells Dave’s Omega instincts to trust him. 

The situation is fucked beyond repair. Dave doesn’t know if he’ll be able to tell his friends about his presentation or if he’ll be able to hide his bond. He doesn’t even want to think about the bond. He doesn’t want to think about how clear Bro has made it that this wasn’t a one-time thing or how his cool older brother will never be the same again. He just wants to pass the fuck out and pretend the whole day was the world’s worst fever dream - so that’s what he does.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: bro is about 40 here, while dave is a very fresh 18. when dave presents as an omega, bro non-consensually bonds him, pisses on him, and knots his mouth. there are a few vague references to breeding.
> 
> thanks for reading! i might write some more in this 'verse (i'm a sucker for dave's friends finding out about all of this, for one), but i also have some much lighter davekat a/b/o ideas, so we'll see what happens! :) have a great day!


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